Free Will
by BowsLB
Summary: Post 5x10. Sam meets a mysterious girl while on a job. Meet Joan. Young, cute, slayer? She's got plenty of surprising news, and perhaps a way out of the Michael/Lucifer showdown. Not really a crossover. My idea of what a slayer would be in the spn-verse.


Free Will

A/n: Spoilers until 5x10 (Abandon All Hope). I just started watching Spn a few short weeks ago, catching up on all five seasons when I wasn't working, so I honestly don't know much about the fanfiction that's out there. I know there's been plenty of spn/buffy crossovers, but I really wanted to write something that captured a bit of the slayer's essence that could actually fit into the world of Supernatural. The standard disclaimers apply, and constructive crit instead of flames is always appreciated.

~*~

A park at night. A young woman walks quickly down the path looking around, calling. "Eric? Eric, where are you?" She giggles a bit, and after a few more calls to him, her tone turns nervous. "Eric? Come on, Eric, this isn't funny anymore."

She starts jogging, almost, still searching, around her, the park lights flicker and she gasps as they go out.

A voice calls out timidly behind her, "Dana?"

She turns with a relieved smile to face Eric, who looks scared. Suddenly, out of thin air, something sprays into her eyes, and she screams. She's thrown to the ground by an invisible force.

Eric yells "Dana!" and runs toward her, stopping short as she screams again.

The camera pans from his wide eyes to her on the ground, she's screaming and convulses and a close-up of her eyes shows a flash, as though on fire, and Eric yells.

~*~

After losing Ellen and Jo, the Winchesters and Bobby spent the better part of two weeks trying to figure out the next step, seeing how the colt wasn't going to be their savior this time. Day after day of finding no leads had the boys feeling restless. When a possible job showed up, both Sam and Dean were anxious to try and at least do something to help. Anything to keep from ruminating over their ever-shrinking list of options.

Unfortunately, instead of the normal random evil that usually presented itself, the weird cases weren't popping up as regularly as they should have been. Bobby had a theory that demonic activity was down because they were being more careful and preparing for the coming war instead of their daily, run-of-the-mill evil. Dean was starting to lose hope that he'd get to kill something soon when they found some interesting things in the paper. A few teenaged-boys had all been killed and dumped in the park of a small town recently, all of whom had their class rings and nothing else stolen. Only one teenaged-girl had been killed recently in the area, and though her date had witnessed it, he couldn't really describe what happened to her. In fact, he was so traumatized that he wasn't talking to anyone at all. Furthermore, the autopsy had shown that cause of death was from damage to her heart that seemed to have occurred several days before she killed.

When Dean and Sam arrived in the town, Dean and Sam decided to split up for their interviews, to cover more ground. Dean started with family of the girl that had been killed, while Sam started to cover all the other boys that had been killed and their rings taken. According to the girl's parents, she had been acting strangely for the last few weeks. "She didn't seem like herself," her mother had explained. "She started sneaking out, and wouldn't tell me where she'd been. At first I thought it was a boy, but when I talked to Anna, that's her best friend, Anna said she wasn't dating anyone as far as she knew. Anna said Dana became different… mean, almost. I didn't know what to do." When Dana's mother started crying, Dean apologized for intruding and asked to look around the house. Finding some sulfur on the windowsill, Dean decided that demonic possession was top on the list and the demon had probably moved on, leaving the dead meat-suit behind.

Halfway across town, Sam was just leaving the home of a recently, suspiciously killed high school senior. Like most of the young men killed, the guy had apparently left his group of friends with a girl he'd just met, according to his friends. When they'd found his body, it had been dumped in the park, his neck was broken and his class ring had been stolen. His mother had mentioned that the ring had been really important to him because his great-great grandfather had found the stone that had been set in it. Sam asked a couple of questions about the kind of stone it was and who the great-great grandfather was. He thanked her and was planning on hitting research mode about the stone when he returned to the hotel room. Opening the car door, he was about to step in when he heard her scream.

Sam had only caught a glimpse of the girl as she ran, panic-stricken, half-crying and screaming out of the corner of his eye. By the time he saw her, she was running away from him and into an old abandoned-looking house, slamming the door. She was petite, especially compared to him. Even in the semi-darkness of the street, she looked like she could be no more than seventeen. In hiking boots, jeans and a light jacket, she could have been a local kid running from a camp story gone terribly wrong. Without thinking, he took off after her, pulling out a small gun and cell phone, slamming the car door.

He called Dean and waited with annoyance as the rings forwarded him to voice mail. He left a short message. "Dean, saw a girl running away from something into an old house out here, don't know what it was, yet. Address is 1217 Maple Street," he said as he checked the address on the mailbox.

Sam entered the house through the front door she had slammed. "Hello?" he called, entering the front room, with trepidation. "Are you alright? … miss?"

A dim light in the hallway at the far end of the room flickered. As quietly as he could, he approached the corner. The light flickered again, and he raised the shotgun. A small rustling-noise could be heard around the corner. He rounded it sharply, pointing the gun at the nothing that lay around it. He lowered it slightly, surprised, and looking around, still finding nothing. The confused puppy look took over his face, and he lowered his weapon slightly, trying to decide where to turn next.

Suddenly, the girl appeared in front of him, a smug smile on her face with her hand up right in front of his face. Sam jumped back and tried to put his hands up in defense.

"Sorry, game over," she said, and her palm sprayed something in his face.

Sam cried out and swiped at his eyes trying to clear them from the burning and stinging. He sputtered, trying to keep from swallowing. It only took him a moment to recognize the taste, though.

"Salt?" he coughed out, his one hand on his knee, the other wiping at his eyes. He was and still blinking madly, trying to wash the salt out. "You sprayed me with salt?"

"Say huh?" the girl said quietly, full of disbelief. She stared at him as though he were a puzzle she couldn't figure out. She took a deep breath, and held it as if trying to suss out what she smelled. "You… you're not…"

"Not what?" he growled, finally able to look at her, his eyes bloodshot and red.

She dodged the question, and pulled a small flask from the side of her belt. "Here," she said, unscrewing the cap. She touched his face gently, and opened his eye, pouring water over his eye. He hissed and flinched, but he let her repeat with his other eye.

When Sam stood up and he finally got a really good look at her, she was staring at him her brows furrowed and her mouth was set in a hard line. Her eyes held many questions as she studied his appearance, focusing on the shotgun.

"So are you going to tell me why you shot salt in my eye? And better yet, how you did it from your palm?"

"You…" she started slowly, but never finished her thought. The girl's posture suggested that she was relaxed, but Sam had been in the game long enough to realize that her muscles were taut, ready to move if she had to.

Sam gulped and his confused expression mixed with trepidation matched hers, he would have fidgeted if he thought the situation were less tense, but he could tell that she was ready for action if he made one wrong move. His eyes quickly darted around the room, taking it in, in case he needed a quick exit.

When he didn't say anything, she continued. "Salt burned your eyes in the 'oh-so-human' way, and the holy water I cleaned your eyes with didn't make you scream. But you smell all… demony," she crinkled her nose in disgust at the word. "So, before I slice you open with something silver to be on the safe side, you mind telling me what you're doing here?"

His eyebrows hit the ceiling when she said he smelled of demon, and he gulped again. "Please, I just heard you scream and I thought I could help. I didn't know you were baiting demons."

"Well, I thought I smelled one. You're a hunter, are you," she asked, as if it were a commonplace question.

"Yeah, hey, what do you mean I smell all demony?"

She studied him for another moment, and as if a light went off over her head, a slow smile spread across her face. "Oh no, it can't be… A hunter with an evil after-taste?" She bit her lip briefly, as if to contain her glee as Sam squirmed. Her muscles relaxed as Sam's tensed. "You… are Sam Winchester, aren't you?" She grinned widely at him as he sweated.

Sam shrugged with a confused puppy face unable to think of an appropriate response, while he was trying to figure out if he was in any danger.

The girl walked toward him with wonder in her eyes as she studied him. As she approached, he could see that the hilt of what could only be a sword poked over her shoulder, strapped to her back. He tensed further wondering if he could reach Ruby's knife fast enough if he had to use it.

"The famous Sam Winchester here in the flesh. Or is it infamous? What with you being the chosen vessel for the devil, and all? I never thought I'd live long enough to meet you." She grinned widely. "No one ever told me you were a _giant_." Her smile unnerved Sam, he couldn't quite understand what the motivation for her grin was, but it faded into an unreadable expression. "I've heard a lot about you, Sam."

"Yeah," he asked, trying to draw more information out of her, delay a bit until Dean could get his message and get out there. "What else have you heard?"

"Well, I hear you went and got yourself addicted to demon blood and released the devil, starting the apocalypse." For the first time, her expression held a more powerful emotion than amusement. Her eyes shined slightly wet in the darkness as her jaw set, trying to hold it in. When she spoke again, she didn't meet his eyes and she spoke much slower and without the hint of jest. "Which is probably the reason why I lost the last true friend I've ever had." She swallowed at the lump that appeared in her throat and she blinked away the moisture that threatened to turn into tears. She turned away with a small scoff.

When she turned back, her amusement had returned and the pain in her eyes was covered again. She walked right up to him and her hand hovered over his heart for a moment, and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply in. Sam didn't quite know what to do. He was torn between the instinct to defend himself and the instinct to run, but that might have just been a residual feeling from his most recent run-in with his super-fan, Becky. She didn't touch him, though and after a very long moment, the girl stepped back, she smiled. "So, Sammy's looking for redemption? Glad to see that your heart's back in the right place… not willing to be evil for the greater good, huh? Good for you…" Her smile seemed genuine, but Sam was far too confused by now to jump to any conclusions.

She took another step away, and examined him again.

"You know, I hear that I owe you and your brother a gratitude for finally… what's the word you use? …Ganking the manipulative bitch that took my knife. You know, the one that's in your belt right now," she pointed to his side.

Sam's jaw dropped a bit, and his eyes widened. "Your…?"

"Yeah, that lying demon that got you to suck her blood? She took my knife. Oh, don't worry, you can keep it. I don't really need it when I can just make a better one, even if it's a giant pain in the ass," she shrugged and ignored the shock and wonder on his face. "It's the principle of the matter, you know? She could have at least asked." Her tone was so casual and mocking, she could have been complaining about someone stealing her office supplies.

"Who are you?" Sam practically whispered in disbelief.

She gave him a small smile and tilted her head to the side. "Oh, Sammy… you didn't really think you were the only freak in this fight, did you?" She smiled as ancient-looking marks glowed from the skin on her forehead, cheeks, on her chest just above the collar of her tee shirt, and on her palms. Her eyes glowed blue for a moment, and she smirked as they disappeared and Sam gasped.

"The question you're looking for… is _what_ are you?" With that, she disappeared.

Sam let out his breath and was breathing hard, looking wildly around. He could have sworn he heard a chuckle, so he reached for the knife.

Still turning around wildly, he heard her voice once more, in a whisper. "See you soon, Sammy…"

The sound of the door busting open made him jump, but he calmed when he heard Dean shout his name in the gravelly-worry voice he always wore on the job. Sam called back, saying he was okay. When he peeked around the corner, he saw Dean at the door with a rock salt-filled shotgun lowered, a confused and still-worried look on his face. "Hey. We gotta talk."

~*~

"Thanks, Bobby… Yeah, we'll be careful. Let you know if we find anything else." Dean hung up his cell phone. "Bobby's never heard of any blue-glowing-eyed, or salt-throwing creatures, either. He's going to look into it for us. In the meantime, he thinks we should hit the road and try to stay as low profile as possible until we get back to his house." Dean sighed, if there was one thing he really hated, it was cutting a job short. If the apocalypse wasn't a more pressing issue, he wouldn't have listened.

"Bobby's right. This girl definitely knew too much about me. And not in the 'I'm a big fan of the books' kind-of-way. And if she knows how to make a knife like this, who knows what else she can do?" Sam stuffed the last article of clothing in his bag and shut it. "On the other hand, maker of demon killing knives, salt-throwing, holy water-carrying little girl? I don't know if we need to be running from this. Even if she can disappear, if she wanted to hurt me, don't you think she would have tried then?"

"Dude… not the point. Maybe she wants you alive. Lucifer happens to be after you, the angels are after me, and there's a new player in the game? Better safe than sorry, right? We can't afford to lose anyone else by being reckless. Especially since our only plan to defeat the devil failed…" Dean trailed off. They had been avoiding that topic like the plague since neither had any theories that made any sense.

Sam frowned and shrugged. They left the hotel and hit the road. Even though they were only about a hundred miles away from Bobby's place, the ride seemed to take forever. The strain of the last year weighed on both of them, and it seemed as though things were never going to be back to normal. If there was a normal to return to, that is. Towards the end of the trip, however, Dean turned to Sam with a typical Dean question.

"So, was she hot?"

Sam face constricted in his puppy-version of disbelieving annoyance, and he turned his head quickly to the side, staring incredulously.

"What?"

Dean grinned suggestively back, "You know, blue eyes. Was she hot?"

Sam's expression didn't change much as he looked back at the road. "I don't know. She looked like she could be jailbait, Dean. Petite, cute, I guess. I was paying more attention to the sword on her back and the marks that appeared on her skin."

"Cute, huh? Blonde?" Dean grinned at him, ignoring most of what Sam had said.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Brunette. Probably jailbait, I say again, hoping that makes a difference."

"Aw, come on, Sammy. End of the world? What's a little law-breaking going to hurt?"

Sam sighed, and Dean stopped joking. "How do you think she knows about you being the vessel?"

"I don't know. Either, she knows Chuck, or she knows people in high… or I guess low, places."

Dean parked and they got out of the Impala, closing the doors. "You don't think maybe she's been spying on us, do you?"

"What do you mean," Sam asked as they walked up the steps to Bobby's house.

Dean paused at the door, knocking. "You said she disappeared, right? And you heard her say something after she was gone, right?"

Sam was about to answer, when Bobby opened the door and let them in with the standard hug, and "Good to see you, boys."

"You find anything out, Bobby," Sam asked once inside.

"No, no one's ever heard of something like that. Meanwhile, we don't have a lead on the devil, or God, for that matter. No word from your angel friend, I suppose." Bobby wheeled himself into the dining room which had mountains of books laid open.

"No," Dean said, his voice low and frustrated. "Cass hasn't been back since after…"

"So the big horseman of Death is out, Lucifer is still out there doing only God knows what, and God, well, there's no solid word, there except what your angel says… Now, there's a little girl that disappears and shoot salt from her hands. I don't know about you boys, but we are well outside of my area of expertise."

"Not to mention, we still don't know how to get rid of Lucifer now that we know the colt won't work," Sam stared at the floor, not needing to say what everyone was thinking anyway… that they didn't know how to avoid Lucifer coming after him.

"I guess we should assume that if the colt won't work, Ruby's knife won't work, either," Dean said, not that they hadn't discussed it earlier.

"You mean my knife."

Every head in the room snapped toward the small, sure voice that came from the girl, who was suddenly standing in the room with them. The girl looked almost exactly as she had the night before, the same jacket and dirty pair of jeans and boots, the hilt of a sword, still visible over her shoulder, its strap falling over her chest. Sam, Dean, and Bobby all froze for a split second and all of them made slow movements toward their weapons.

"Hello, boys. Surprise! No, my knife won't work on Lucifer, so you can forget about it. And you can forget about trying to kill me, because if you want to get rid of Lucifer, you're going to want me around."

"Is that so," Bobby asked, his hand still inching toward the silver knives he had under the armrests of his wheelchair.

"It is, so really, please don't throw those at me," she gave him a knowing smile.

"Well?" Dean asked, "Who are you? Or what are you?"

The girl breathed in deep and smiled again. "The name's Joan, and I'm not evil, so you can just relax. I'll drink salted holy water out of a silver or iron cup, if you want, but I'm not evil. I'm actually surprised you haven't figured it out yet." The blank looks they wore told her they had no clue. "I'll give you a hint. They made a tv show about me. They got about as much right about me as they did the demons and vampires in the show, but still…"

The boys all exchanged confused looks.

"Oh, come on! Seriously?" She half-laughed in disbelief. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised, no one's really supposed to know I exist," Joan frowned and crossed her arms. "I'd say being all chosen is no fun, but I guess you guys already know that, huh?"

"Chosen… chosen… no way," Dean grinned suddenly. "You're not… are you?"

Joan smiled at him expectantly. Sam and Bobby stared at him like he was crazy.

"You're the slayer, aren't you!" For a moment, Dean got the crazed fanboy look in his eyes.

"The one and only. But I'll give you fair warning," she pointed at him sternly, "if you call me Buffy or Bunny or some other stripper name, I will end you. Evil or no."

Sam was still looking at Dean incredulously. "Dude."

"What? Sarah Michelle Gellar is hot," he grinned, hitching his eyebrows like a shrug.

Bobby looked like he had a bad smell under his nose. "Slayer? You want to explain, boy?"

"Little blonde girl, preternatural strength, slays demons and a lot of vampires. Kicks major ass," Dean suddenly realized how it made him sound and coughed, regaining his adult composure.

"That much is true aside from the blonde bit. To be honest, evil's never around long enough to be disappointed that I'm not blonde, and the only other hunters that know about me, don't know enough to know what I am."

"If that's so, then why are you talking to us," Sam asked.

"Long story short? I'm the B-side to the Michael/Lucifer showdown you all are desperate to avoid, and as much as I'd rather live to see my next birthday, I'd rather not see somebody go over evil. And I really don't want to disappoint God, again."

"You're gonna have to run that by me again, girl," Bobby said slowly.

Joan sighed, "I really need to make a pamphlet or something… 'Easy guide to the slayer! Everything you need to know!'" She motioned like reading a headline. "Look, you all are famous and there are prophecies about you guys, the angels, Lucifer and the holy wars. But, God doesn't really want it to go down that way for real, so she plucked me from my family when I was six and made me this…" Her eyes glowed blue and the ancient marks on her skin glowed with them.

Dean backed up a bit, surprised. Bobby was the first to recover himself. "She? You're telling me not only God exists, but she's a woman?"

Joan tilted her head back and forth with the 'meh' face. "Yes and no. She was a woman last time she came to talk to me. He was male when he came and made me into the slayer. I think it was easier to guilt me back into slaying as a woman. I think it had to do with the not really having a mother thing…" trailed off from her mini-tangent, lost in thought.

"Guilt you back into slaying," Dean asked. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I took a year off of slaying when I was seventeen. Tried to live life like a regular girl for a bit, make some bad decisions and have a little fun," Dean's grin made her roll her eyes. "Yes, those kinds of decisions, and trust me, it is much easier to get alcohol underage when you can disappear. Anyway, God's all about free-will, but she didn't want me to lose sight of why she made me the slayer."

"Which is…?" Bobby asked.

"Aside from kicking demon ass daily? To put Lucifer to the final judgment without involving the angels, because as you know, they've been trying to speed up the apocalypse for a while now. God got tired of all the insubordination, and decided to fix it with the help of a human. Me. Plus, last I heard, she doesn't want to see you guys fight anymore," Joan grinned as the brothers looked at each other surprised. "She's got a soft spot for you two." Joan winked at them with a nod.

"So tell me, slayer," Bobby said the title with some skepticism, "why are you telling us all this? And how the hell are you going to stop Lucifer if that knife of yours we got won't kill him?"

Joan looked at her feet, her confidence suddenly failing her. "I'm guessing I met you guys because I can't get to him all by myself. I've never really believe in coincidence, if you can believe that. And the knife you have there was forged with my blood in the silver. My blood is worse to anything evil than a dead man's blood to a vampire."

Sam took the knife out and looked between her and it. "That's why it kills demons?"

"Yes, I made several of them. It's easier than bleeding on evil every time," She chuckled a bit at her joke, but the laugh itself, was humorless. "I can exorcise demons if the body is alive, but unfortunately, that usually isn't an option. Anyway, in order to do Lucifer in, supposedly requires a lot of slayer blood, which is why I need you all. Lucifer won't stray too far from you," she motioned to Sam, "And even though he doesn't know I exist, I can't kamikaze him out of the picture unless I know where he is."

"You mean…?" Sam asked, quietly.

Joan smiled softly, "Yup, the way I hear it, the only way out of the apocalypse is my ticket out of the world. Which sucks, but it's better than watching angels and demons duke it out and wiping out the entire world."

They all sat in silence for a few moments, when Joan's stomach growling interrupted the heavy silence.

"Heh," she grinned. "That's my cue to get some food. I'll catch you guys in a while to talk strategy, if you want to help me." She started walking towards the door. Bobby and Sam exchanged looks, but Dean took off after her.

"Hey, wait up. I could go for some grub, too. I'll give you a ride." Dean followed Joan out and offered her the door to the Impala. She accepted and when he got in the car he spoke again. "Just like that, huh?"

"Just like what?"

"Just like that, God gives us a solution other than some holy-war apocalypse? And I'm supposed to accept that, what? On faith?"

"It may be just like that to you, Dean, but I've known this was in store for me for the last sixteen years of my life." Reading his surprised expression, she rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm twenty-two. I just might make it to twenty-three if we draw this out just a little bit. Personally, I'd rather get on with it and just be done. You of all people might be familiar with the feeling, hellboy." Her stomach growled loudly again.

"I don't quite understand. You don't have to do this, right? God's giving you a choice?"

"Dean, God gave me a choice just like God's giving you and Sam a choice. Personally, I think you are too handsome to become a driveling pile of used vessel once Michael is done with you." She carefully ignored the smug face he made. "And your brother? His soul is too beautiful and strong for me to just watch it go evil. At least with the demon blood addiction, he had good intentions. If Lucifer manages to convince him to be his vessel, his soul will be FUBAR'd."

"What do you know about his soul? Is that a slayer thing, too?"

"Pretty much," She paused the reached a hand out over his heart, and breathed in, closing her eyes. When she opened her eyes and breathed out, she said "your soul is stubborn to the core, but mostly good. Aside from the Busty Asian Beauties and other *ahem* guilty pleasures, it would be a shame for the world to lose you."

"And you? What's it going to cost the world to lose the slayer?" He asked seriously.

She smiled, looking at the road. "The important thing is that there will still be a world for me to hand over to regular human hunters."

"And what about your family? Friends? They're okay with your mission?" He glanced over knowing her answer would be more honest in her expression, than in her words.

"That's the other thing the show got right, Dean. The slayer is always alone," she said. She smiled to herself, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.


End file.
